Watering The Plant

ALDRIC PARKER

"Boots off, in my Lady's house."

Aldric stood unmoving at the entrance, arms crossed, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

The conjurers in their robes did not budge. Silent. Waiting.

Then, at last—

"I apologize for the crude show of behavior… Aldric."

The conjurers parted, and through them stepped a man clad in velvet, golden runes laced into the fabric of his robe. His presence alone demanded respect, but Aldric did not move.

"Major. High Lord."

He did not step aside.

The High Lord only sighed. "We will have a brief discussion—" he turned to the gathered conjurers, his voice smooth, practiced. "Please, let us not make a crowd here."

They obeyed. Scattering.

The High Lord removed his boots. "May I step in?"

Aldric finally stepped aside, granting him entrance.